
Class P_Si:^sx<^ 

Book S^?>5 'S% 

Coipght N" 2* '^ 



1 



COPYRIGHT UEPOSrr 



SUSQUEHANNA 

AND 

OTHER POEMS 

BY 

THE O' BYRNES 



If orchids please your eye the best, 
Go seek them where you will; 

But we prefer to go in quest 
Of daisies on the hill. 



PUBLISHED BY 

The Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate 
Heart of Mary 

St. Cecilia Academy, Scranton, Pennsylvania 



TH8 ANTHRACITE PRESS, SCRANTON, PA. 






n"*^ 



Affectionately dedicated 
to 

Therese 

'The Little Flower of Jesus" 



/a. 



tr» 



Copyritiht 1914 

by 

The Sisters, Servants of the 

Immaculate Heart of Mary 



OEC 28 1914 

'GI.A8889G7 






FOREWORD 



To those who prize the mountain brook. 

The forest and the field. 
We trust this guileless little book 

Some minor joys may yield. 
Thank God, we do not seek to please 

The worldling nor the sages — 
No message is there here for these, 

But if among these pages 
There lurks a single, homely thought 

That draws to Heaven one heart, 
We have attained the end we sought — 

Our pen has done its part. 



INDEX 

Susquehanna ------------ 7 

Pope Pius X ----------- 14 

Jubilee Ode ------------- 15 

At Old Lakeside ----------- 17 

St. Rose of Lima ----------- 18 

Dav Dreams ------------19 

The Glories of Erin ---------- 21 

The Promise ------- ----- 22 

St. Cecilia's ------------ 23 

Middletown ------------ 24 

Scranton Grows -----------25 

Gethsemani ------------ 26 

The Old Back Porch --------- 27 

Castletown ------------ 28 

The Irish Peasant's Mother ------- 29 

St. Joseph, Be Thou My Friend ----- 31 

The First Communicants - - - ----- 32 

At Mount Saint Mary's -------- 34 

Lady of Light ----------- 35 

The Fountain Pen ---------- 36 

Tabby's Triumph ---------- 38 

KathhMMi ------------- 40 



SUSQUEHANNA 

Not the River Susquehanna, 

Though it is a splendid stream, 
Not the most inspiring region 

Forms the subject of my theme ; 
But, tonight I sing the glories 

Of a Redman, brave and young, 
And no bard of greater hero 

Than my hero e 'er has sung. 

Susquehanna was just twenty, 

Tall and slender as a maid. 
When the English settlers met him 

In the silent forest shade. 
There were many of the English, 

Susquehanna stood alone; 
Calm and dignified he faced them 

Like a statue carved in stone. 

Eloquently he addressed them 
In the Susquehanna tongue, 

Never had a voice more thrilling- 
Through the ancient forest rung: 

''Englishmen, I do not fear you! 
But the Paleface well may fear, 

Who has robbed us of our birthright — 
Crushed the hopes our hearts held dear. 



SUSQUEHANNA 

All too yielding, the Patuxents 

Have been crowded to the West, 
But this Susquehanna never 

Will give up the haunts loved best. 
Yonder in her grave lies Willow, 

She who was my faithful bride; 
'When a Paleface killed her sire, 

Then his noble daughter died. 

Heartless and dishonest cowards, 

I despise you and your skill ! 
Shoot me if you feel inclined to, — 

You can do far worse than kill.^^ 
Only one of all the settlers 

Understood what had been said. 
And e^er he could form an answer, 

Susquehanna turned and fled. 

Often after that they met him 

Wandering through the sombre glade, 
But he passed them by unnoticed, 

And they passed him half afraid. 
Little could they learn about him, — 

Who he was, or whence he came ; 
So they called him Susquehanna, 

And the English feared that name. 

Undisturbed that long bright autumn. 

This strange brave was wont to roam 
Through the wooded hills and valleys 

That had been his father's home. 
Ann, the wife of one young settler, 

Pitied, as a woman will, 
Him who mourned where Willow rested 

'Neath the fir tree on the hill. 



AND OTHER POEMS 

Many times she strewed fair flowers 

'er the grave, and knelt in prayer, 
Asking God to bless and comfort 

Him who mourned so often there. 
Later on, when regal winter 

Spread his ermine o'er the land. 
Still the grave bore fadeless garlands, 

Fashioned by Ann Stirling's hand. 

Stirling never was a coward. 

Still his heart grew cold with dread, 
When he saw his fair wife venture 

Where the Redman mourned his dead. 
But he spoke no word of warning, 

Lest he should awaken fear 
In a spirit so unselfish 

That it deemed no danger near. 

All went well throughout the winter; 

Though the snow spread o'er the land 
Game was plentiful, and fuel 

Of the best was near at hand. 
All went well until the spring-tide 

When the sun had reached the line. 
And a wild storm stirred the weather 

That for weeks had been so fine. 

Stirling then received a summons, 

One that would not brook delay, — 
He was needed by a neighbor. 

Up the stream ten miles away. 
Death had come to that sad household. 

And their friends were far and few: 
He must go ; but oh ! he could not 

Take his wife and infant, too. 



10 SUSQUEHANNA 

Ann, the noble soul, assured him 

She was not afraid to stay; 
God and Mary would protect them, 

So the settler tramped away. 
Tramped across the melting snow-banks. 

Through the rain descending fast, 
And he met young Susquehanna 

E 'er the first long mile was past. 

Was it mere imagination. 

Or did that dark, piercing eye 
Flash a searching glance upon him 

As they passed each other by? 
Vengeance is the Redman's motto. 

Love is swift to take alarm. 
^'God of Peace, protect my dear ones! 

Shelter them from every harm.'' 

With fear clutching at his heartstrings, 

Thus he prayed as on he went 
Up the trail, so damp and dismal, 

On his kindly mission bent. 
And the sweet wife in the cabin 

Knelt beside the pine wood bed, 
Where her precious child lay sleeping, 

And her Rosary calmly said. 

Hor belief in God's protection 

Banished every trace of fear, 
And her heart was bright and hopeful, 

Though the world without was drear. 
Wlien the dark, dull day had faded 

To a darker, duller night. 
Still undaunted that brave woman 

Prayed before the loc: fire bright. 



AND OTHER POEMS U 

Prayed, but with no thought of danger, 

Till the door was opened wide, 
And a tall form clad in deerskin, 

Drenched with water, stepped inside. 
Ann, instinctively drew backward. 

Back to where her infant slept, 
And her heart began to flutter 

As the figure nearer stepped. 

Silently young Susquehanna 

Gazed upon the sleeper there. 
Then he stooped and passed his fingers 

Through the curls of golden hair. 
Motionless with fear, the mother 

Stood beside her helpless child, 
Till the Redman turned and faced her, 

And to her amazement, smiled; 

Then respectfully in English 

Slowly said: ^^ Be not afraid; 
I am here tonight in friendship, — 

Here to offer you my aid. 
All my knowledge of their language 

From the English I concealed, 
For revengeful plots I harbored 

That shall never be revealed. 

When I saw you carry flowers 

To my poor dead Flower's grave, 
Then my heart grew warm, recalling 

How completely she forgave. 
Yes, my sweet wife was a Christian 

Who for Christ's sake could forgive; 
But for her, no bold usurper 

On this fair domain dare live. 



13 SUSQUEHANNA 

I too loved the gentle Blackrobe, 

Though I relished not his Creed; 
It was he who taught me English, — 

Taught me both to speak and read. 
Though ungracious to the Frenchmen, 

Our stern Sachem liked this Celt. 
Hard he worked among my people 

And his influence was felt. 

But, 'tis rash to tarry longer. 

You are my dead Willow's friend, 
And you must accept the succor 

Which for her sake I extend. 
Since your husband left this morning, 

Several streams have overflowed; 
And the flood will soon roll downward, 

Sweeping all things in its road. 

Here, in less than half an hour, 

All may be a raging sea; 
Would you save your child from peril- 

And yourself? Then follow me. 
I can lead you to a shelter 

'Neath the fir trees on the hill. 
Will you trust me to protect you?" 

**In God's name," she said, *'I will. 

Then she wrapped the tender infant 

In its little blanket warm, 
And she followed Susquehanna 

Out into the wild, wet storm. 
Silently they crossed the fallow. 

Labored up the steep ascent. 
Till near Willow's grave he halted 

At a little storm-proof tent. 



M 



AND OTHER POEMS 18 

Here upon a couch of deer-skin 

All night long the baby slept, 
Here the mother knelt beside him 

And her prayerful vigil kept; 
While adown the swollen torrent 

Susquehanna's bark canoe, 
Through the blinding rain and darkness, 

Like a warning angel flew. 

Well it was that night for many 

That the warning came in time; 
^^Fly at once, the flood is coming! 

To the nearest highland climb!'* 
Many times in grateful accents 

Was our worthy hero blessed, 
E 'er the morning sun ascended 

And the wild wind sank to rest ; 

For the settlers, from the hillsides 

Saw beneath them in the glen, 
One broad waste of surging waters 

Where their log homes erst had been. 
Susquehanna stayed among them 

Till these homes were all remade ; 
Never was there greater honor 

To a worthy Sachem paid 

Than they offered him who helped them 

In their hour of direst need; 
But to all their demonstrations 

Susquehanna paid no heed. 
Later on his conscience bade him 

Once again seek out his own. 
That he might make Christ's sweet message 

To the Pagans better known ; — 



14 SUSQUEHANNA 

Then they brought him gold and jewels, 

But he left their treasures there; 
All he asked for was a ringlet 

Of the baby^s golden hair. 
Many tearful eyes looked on him 

As he passed adown the glen ; 
And the English settlers never 

Saw their noble friend again. 



^ 



POPE PIUS X 

While jealous kings were conning war^s dark art, 
Were seeking their dominions to increase, 
A strong appeal for universal peace 

Burst from the dying Pontiff's noble heart. 

Oppressed by rumors of a world-wide mart, 
A gory strife for which few sought surcease, 
He gladly welcomed that which could release 

His strong yet tender spirit from this smart. 

The people's Pope he was, — the poor man's 
friend ; 
Now warring nations in their grief unite 
To honor him whose great warm heart they 
broke ; 

To Rome their poor, vain sympathies extend. 
And monarclis, that appear almost contrite, 
Tlio Martyred Pontiff's blessing now invoke. 



AND OTHER POEMS U 



JUBILEE ODE 

Our thoughts travel back o'er the lustrums today 

To a rose-fragtant morn in July, 
To witness a scene whereon angels and saints 

In approval looked down from on High ; 
For a young Levite stood in the glory of youth, 

And renounced all the world had to give. 
And vowed that henceforth for the cause of his King, 
The Divine Nazarene, he would live. 

His Captain had called him to come to the front, 

And he cast every hindrance away ; 
Though others protested, the brave soldier knew 

That he could do naught but obey. 
His worldly ambitions he buried that day, 

And he shed not a tear o 'er their grave ; 
His wealth and his honor henceforth he would count 

By the number of souls he could save. 

The awe and the sweetness of that solemn hour 

Were mingled with fiery zeal 
And confident trust, such as only the heart 

Of the fearless and humble can feel. 
The zeal has not cooled by the sharp wind of time, 

The trust is more perfect today. 
The sweetness that reigned in the young Levite 'a 
heart 

Has never been wafted away. 



16 SUSQUEHANNA 

Now silver bells ring for his glad Jubilee 

A concert of triumph and praise; 
O'er twenty-five years of whole-hearted work 

In joyful thanksgiving we gaze. 
The temples he raised in God's honor now stand 

To witness he worked not in vain, 
The warm, grateful love of the souls that he saved 

Shall through aeons unending remain. 

Joy throbs in the heart of old Friendsville today. 

Aye, and Plymouth and Hawley rejoice; 
The glad bells of Scranton are chiming aloud 

Her triumph and glory to voice. 
A God-sanctioned praise do we offer to him. 

For only in Heaven is known 
The wealth of the harvest that yet shall be reaped 

From the soul-saving seed he has sown. 

Today we unite in an earnest appeal 

To the King he has honored so well, 
That his future may equal the past in good works 

And in peace and in joy may excel. 
May he reap the reward of each brave sacrifice 

He so cheerfully made in the past ; 
May his merit increase till he reaches the court 

Of his glorious Leader at last. 



AND OTHER POEMS 17 



AT OLD LAKESIDE 

We spent one golden autumn day 

At old Lakeside, 
And all too soon it passed away 

At old Lakeside ; 
For when the heart is young and gay 
The rosy hours will not delay: 
In vain we sought their course to stay 
At old Lakeside. 

We stood to see the sun arise 

At old Lakeside; 
The east was tinged with gorgeous dyes 

At old Lakeside; 
You marked the glory of the skies, 
And I, the glory of your eyes — 
That both should fade was no surprise 

At old Lakeside. 

The trees were crowned with red and gold 

At old Lakeside; 
We noted not of death they told 

At old Lakeside; 
But as around the meer we strolled. 
And up_ and down the bosky wold. 
We joyed such splendor to behold 

At old Lakeside. 



18 SUSQUEHANNA 

Alas ! too soon the hours fled 

At old Lakeside ; 
The sun went down in clouds of red 

At old Lakeside. 
Though now the sky is dark as lead 
And you are sleeping with the dead, 
I still remember all you said 

At old Lakeside. 

Full well your words my heart has weighed 

At old Lakeside, 
And for your soul I oft have prayed 

At old Lakeside. 
Sweet thoughts of you must still pervade 
My life — and oh ! with Heaven 's aid, 
I'll keep the promise that I made 

At old Lakeside. 



SAINT ROSE OF LIMA 

Light of America, pride of Peru ! 

Blest be the land where this lovely Rose grew! 

Never a flower bloomed fairer than thee. 

Here in the wide, boasted land of the free. 

Well may Peru still remember with pride 

How Heaven's Monarch claimed thee as His bride. 

Chosen by God as the Rose of His Heart, 
Teach us, thy clients. Love's beautiful Art, — 
Teach us to build in our hearts a pure throne, 
Wliero this great Monarch may reign there alone ; 
Teach us to love Him as thou didst, sweet Rose, — 
Always to find in His Heart our repose. 



AND OTHER POEMS 19 



DAY DREAMS 

In peaceful dreams I oft return 
To where we used to gather fern 
Beneath the pines near Choconut Burn, 
In that long vanished summer-time 
When old Lakeside was at its prime,— 
The fairest spot in this fair clime. 

In dreams I walk with him and her 
Who to my heart the dearest were, 
Who loved with me each sheltering fir, 
Each sombre pine, and hemlock green 
That o'er the tranquil waters lean 
Imparting softness to the scene. 

In dreams I see the hills that rise 

'er Silver Lake blend with the skies 
A wealth of rich autumnal dyes ; 

1 see them clad in springtime 's best, 
In summer's fair regalia dressed, 
Then white with snow from foot to crest. 

And oh ! so many times I dream 
That I am wandering down the stream 
Where golden rod and gentian gleam; 
And pass the homes where many dwell 
Who loved Saint Josephs long and well, 
And of its charms still fondly tell. 



20 SUSQUEHANNA 

Saint Josephs ! long its name shall last, 
Far reached the glory that it cast 
From that lone vale in days now past. 
Its bards shall sing from age to age 
Of every saint and every sage 
Who wrote its name on history's page. 

Eeluctantly do I awake 
From reveries of Carmalt Lake, 
Where robins sing among the brake. 
And where the graceful locust trees. 
The happy haunt of honey bees, 
Sway playfully with every breeze. 

In sweeter dreams I then return 

To Friendsville School, once more to learn 

The best in nature to discern, — 

To Friendsville School where those I knew 

Were so unselfish and so true, 

Where everlasting friendship grew. 

And then again I seem to hear 
The music of a church bell clear — 
No sweeter sound e'er thrilled my ear; 
That old bell hangs no longer there, 
But God remembers every prayer 
We whispered in that shrine so fair. 

And so it is I dream in turn 

Of all I loved at Choconut Burn 

Whore you and I wont gathering fern ; 

And waking from those dreams, I pray 

That all who como along that way 

May pass tlirougli Tloavon 's gate some day. 



AND OTHER POEMS 21 



THE GLORIES OF ERIN 

do not sing of Erin's wrongs — 

You'll break my heart, and break your own, 
But strike a more triumphant chord, 
And sing the glories she has known ; 
Sing of the days when she was queen, 
When all the world revered the Green. 

Aye, sing of centuries lon^ past 

"When Erin's scholars were the best. 
And Erin's bards were wont to sing 
The sweetest songs in all the West ; 
When Greece and Rome were dark as night, 
Our verdant Isle gave out her light. 

Mavourneen, strike a lighter chord. 

Forget the wrongs, forget the pain; 
Let harp and voice send forth tonight 
A holy and a happy strain, 
And praise the souls now sanctified. 
Who for the faith of Erin died. 

Erin's martyrs! Erin's saints! 

With honest joy sing out their praise, 
And bring no cypress here tonight, 

We '11 crown the dear old land with bays ; 
For well we know that Ireland's foes 
Would rather hear of Ireland's woes. 



22 SUSQUEHANNA 

Her roses bloomed among the thorns, 

As all sweet scented roses do ; 
God never hid His face throughout 
The darkest dolor that she knew, 
And now her passion tide is past, 
Her Easter joy draws near at last. 

Then do not sing of Erin's wrongs, — 

'Tis more than hearts like ours can bear ; 
Nor is it meet that we should sigh. 

When hope's bright star is shining there; 
Let not the gloom of grief long gone. 
Bedim the glow of Freedom's dawn. 



THE PROMISE 

I didn't dust your dusty room, 
Though you may think I should ; 

I didn't air it even once — 
I never said I would. 

But what I said I'd do, I did, — 

I always keep my word, — 
And I agreed the day you left 

To feed your little bird. 

I didn't give your palms a drink, 

Nor did I wind your clock ; 
I didn't chase the boys who smashed 

Your window with a rock. 

But then I fed your little bird, 

At least I did do that; 
The very day you went away, 

I fed him — to the cat. 



AND OTHER POEMS 23 



SAINT CECILIA'S 

Sweet Saint Cecilia's, pride of all, 

The heart of every child of thine 
Shall still be true, whatever befall,^ 

To thee on whom our hopes recline. 
Our Alma Mater, fond and true, 

To thee, to all we love, adieu ! 
'Tis hard to part from friends so leal 

Whose hearts are staunch in woe or weal. 

The friendships formed in childhood days 

Cannot be lightly cast aside ; 
The trembling voice too well betrays 

The growing grief we fain would hide. 
Bedimmed with tears is every eye. 

For few can smile and say Good-bye ! 
And never parted friends more true 

Than we who now repeat, Adieu! 

Dear Alma Mater, thou hast taught 

The lesson of sweet Hope so well. 
That though we part in tears, the thought 

Of coming joys shall grief dispel ; 
For after life's long school is o'er, 

We '11 meet again to part no more ; 
The road divides today, but then, 

In God's good time, we'll meet again. 



24 SUSQUEHANNA 

Dear Saint Cecilia's, we shall strive 

Until the end to spread your creed, 
The fainting spirit to revive, 

And all to truth's pure fountain lead; 
As thou didst give, we, too, shall give, 

That other souls for God may live. 
We go the ranks of Christ to swell — 

Our Alma Mater, fare thee well! 



MIDDLETOWN 

No land so fair as thee, I deem. 
Akin to Heaven thy beauties seem, 

Middletown ; 
And oh! how oft, how oft I dream 
Of every meer and every stream 
That in thy peaceful valleys gleam, 
Middletown, my Middletown ! 

I love the hemlock on thy hills, 
I love the brake along thy rills, 

Middletown ; 
When spring the heart of Nature thrills 
The music of thy whippo or wills 
Each grove, and field, and forest fills, 
Middletown, my Middletown! 

And wherefore do I prize thee best. 
Why find in thee the sweetest rest, 

Middletown ; 
Because to thee T go in quest 
Of tliose my heart loves first and ])est. 
Whose smiles would make Sahara blest, 
Middletown, my Middletown! 



AND OTHER POEMS 25 



SCRANTON GROWS 

In Lackawanna's fertile vale, 

Scranton grows ; 
Frnitf ul and fair and strong and hale, 

Scranton grows; 
Though knaves her honor may assail. 
This thrifty tree shall never fail, 
Though cold and fierce may blow the gale, 
Scranton grows, sweet Scranton grows. 

Where Chief Capouse once cheered his braves, 

Scranton grows ; 
Above their long-forgotten graves, 

Scranton grows; 
Where Nay Aug still the mountain laves. 
And Roaring Brook in rapture raves. 
Where beauty's standard ever waves, 
Scranton grows, sweet Scranton grows. 

Where modest Moosic Mountains rise, 

Scranton grows; 
Where Lackawanna laughs and sighs, 

Scranton grows; 
Her magic power no man denies. 
And well do we, her children, prize 
This tree that thrives and never dies — 
Scranton grows, sweet Scranton grows. 

Above the listening anthracite, 

Scranton grows ; 
Crowned with her own electric light, 

Scranton grows ; 



26 SUSQUEHANNA 

The foe of darkness, queen of night, 
So fragrant, fair and pure and bright, 
The pride of all who love the right, 

Scranton grows, sweet Scranton grows. 

Where joy holds undisputed sway, 

Scranton grows ; 
Admired by all who pass this way, 

Scranton grows ; 
With fond and hopeful hearts we pray, 
That she may never know decay; 
For aeons may her children say, 

*^ Scranton grows, sweet Scranton grows. '* 



GETHSEMANI 

Gethsemani, I love thy sad sweet name ; 

The precious Blood that washed my sins away 
Poured down in streams and sanctified thy clay. 

Gethsemani, it was to thee He came 

And agonized that He might hide my shame. 
Yea, on the eve of His great Passion Day 
He knelt beneath the olive shade to pray 

That my poor, wayward soul He might reclaim. 

More dear thou art by far than Tabor's height. 

Sweet grove; thy silent shade best suited Him, 
When, with my sins oppressed, He came that night 
And prostrate prayed within thy shelter dim. 
It was in thee His Passion was begun. 
When bowing low He said, **Thy will be done.*' 



AND OTHER POEMS 27 



THE OLD BACK PORCH 

The old back porch was his favorite haunt, — 

He told me the reason why: 
It gave him a view of the distant hills 

That rested his weary eye ; 
It gave him a glimpse of the Carmalt Lake 

That glistens among the trees; 
The noisy throng never pass that way, 

And there he could feel at ease. 

The old back porch was his favorite haunt, 

And my favorite haunt as well ; 
For I enjoyed, as did no one else 

The stories he used to tell. 
Sweet were the hours we spent out there, 

Our tryst in the twilight dim; 
Sweet were the tales that he fondly told 

Of days that were dear to him. 

The old back porch was his favorite haunt. 

The neighbors enjoyed it, too; 
How many times on the steps they stood 

And helped him praise the view. 
They sadly pass by the back porch now, 

And softly they breathe the prayer: 
^*God rest his soul!'' for, like me, they miss 

The friendly old man out there. 



28 SUSQUEHANNA 



CASTLETOWN 

How oft I heard him praise thy name, 

Sweet Castletown; 
How many times heard him proclaim 

Thy wide renown! 
But now the voice whose latest breath 
Retold thy charms, is hushed in death, 
The great warm heart that loved thee best 
Enjoys at last unbroken rest. 

Though thy fair haunts I have not seen, 

Sweet Castletown! 
I know thy every loch and stream. 

And vale and down ; 
For oh ! he painted them so well, — 
The shady grove, thy sunny dell. 
The pasture land, the cool green wood, — 
And all to him were more than good. 

How many times he prayed for thee, 

Sweet Castletown! 
From Aiden^s heights I trust that he 

To-night looks down 
Upon the scenes he loved to praise, 
The scenes he knew in childhood days, 
And pray that he may meet again 
The friends who made him happy then. 



AND OTHER POEMS 29 



THE IRISH PEASANT'S MOTHER 

Let others sing of whom they will, 

Philanthropists or sages, 
Of those whose names have been enrolled 

On history's deathless pages; 
Or sing of men whose noble deeds 

Have never been recorded. 
The hidden heroes whom proud fame, 

As yet, has not rewarded. 
To me one life, one heart, appeals 

Far more than any other ; 
Then let me sing of her tonight — 

The Irish peasant's mother. 

A tidy little woman she 

Who bears the mark of labor ; 
Her home-made gown outrivals not 

The dress of any neighbor. 
The soft white hair, hidden by 

A snowy cap, enhances 
The calmness of the face, and eyes 

From which true kindness glances ; 
An humble mien, though dignified, 

A countenance portraying 
Keen humor, sympathetic love, 

And faith all else outweighing. 

Each word she speaks seems half a prayer ; 

She greets you with a blessing. 
And welcomes e'en the poorest guest 

In tones sweet and caressing. 



30 SUSQUEHANNA 

With hospitality unfeigned, 

She proves that her great pleasure 
Is Martha-like, that she delights 

In giving without measure. 
Well may her heart be filled with joy 

That makes this life worth living, 
A joy that seems to be increased 

By this excess in giving. 

Both competent and well informed. 

Self-sacrificing ever ; 
To scatter happiness about 

Is still her first endeavor. 
With firmness, yet with gentleness. 

Her children are directed; 
By them with reverential love 

Her precepts are respected. 
What wonder that her life is blessed 

Far more than any other! 
Wliat wonder that my heart reveres 

The Irish peasant's mother! 



AND OTHER POEMS 31 



ST. JOSEPH, BE MY FRIEND 

Protector of our Holy Faith, 

Great Saint of priceless worth, 
Best loved of all the sons of men, 

God ever loved on earth. 
Thou didst provide the food for Him 

From Whom all good proceeds ; 
wilt thou not provide for me. 

Dear Saint, in all my needs I 

In want and strife, throughout my life, 

Thy holy aid extend; 
When death draws near, I pray thee, dear 

Saint Joseph, be my friend. 

By Mary best beloved of all. 

Except her Son divine. 
And next to her in His great Heart, 

The first place too is thine. 
Obtain for me the grace to breathe 

Their names with my last breath ; 
If They and thou art with me then, 

I'll gladly welcome death. 

Whatever betide, be thou my guide 

On to the very end ; 
When death draws near, I pray thee, dear 

Saint Joseph, be my friend. 



32 SUSQUEHANNA 

THE FIRST COMMUNICANTS 

In the old cathedral kneeling, 
While the sacred music stealing 
Through the arches was appealing 

To my heart, 
There I watched the sunlight streaming 
Through the colored glass, and gleaming 
On the marble altar, seeming 

To impart 
Warmth and softness with the blending 
Of a light, sunset transcending. 
All the sky's bright beauty lending 

To the stone. 
There God waited mid the flow'rs 
Waited for these hearts of ours 

On His Throne. 

Others knelt with me adoring, 

All our hearts' great grief outpouring. 

Every kind of grace imploring 

From our King, 
While the organ tones, still swelling, 
To our eager hearts were telling 
How within their Father's dwelling 

Angels sing; 
But they spoke of God's love solely. 
As a band of young and holy 
First communicants came slowly 

Up the aisle. 
Boys, subdued, all downward glancing, 
Joy their innocence enhancing, 
Were with reverence advancing, 

Void of guile. 



AND OTHER POEMS 

Like a denizen of Aiden 
Seemed each timid little maiden, 
With her fair head, flower laden, 

Bending low. 
Watching that pure band, I thought then 
Of the ones whose mothers brought them 
To the arms of Him who sought them 

Long ago ; 
How disciples, over-zealous. 
Or perhaps a little jealous, — 
Which the scriptures do not tell us, 

Said, ^^ Depart!'' 
But the Master still caressed them. 
Still more lovingly He blessed them, 
And more tenderly He pressed them 

To His Heart. 

Changeless is that Heart forever; 
And shall we likewise endeavor 
Little ones from Him to sever? 

Or shall we 
Send Him those He has invited. 
That His love may be requited. 
That they be with Him united 

Perfectly? 
From these little children learning. 
Trustingly to Jesus turning, 
Are our hearts with pure love burning, 

Undefiled? 
Let us go like them to meet Him, 
Unaffected let us greet Him, 
For He hears when we entreat Him 

As a child. 



34 SUSQUEHANNA 



AT MOUNT SAINT MARY'S 

Afar at Mount Saint Mary's 

The altar lamp burns bright, 
Where faithful hearts are praying 

For absent friends to-night. 
Although a homesick alien, 

I am remembered there, 
At this thrice blessed hour 

My name is heard in prayer. 

Afar at Mount Saint Mary's 

The shrine wherein they meet, 
I know, is filled with flowers, 

All beautiful and sweet; 
But sweeter far the incense 

Of prayer that now ascends 
From fervent hearts to Heaven, — 

The prayer for absent friends. 

God bless dear Mount Saint Mary's! 

God grant that holy peace 
And sacred love may ever 

There constantly increase ! 
And may I hear in Heaven 

Each voice that sweetly blends 
In that fond supplication. 

Now heard for absent friends. 



AND OTHER POEMS 85 



LADY OF LIGHT 

Turn thy bright smile on our frail little bark, 

Lady of Light; 
See, we are drifting alone in the dark, 

Guide us aright; 
Hear how the tempest our misery mocks, — 

Laughs at our fear. 
Lady of Light, keep us far from the rocks, 

Help us to steer 
Over the billows, safe into port; 

Help us to gain 
Entrance at last to the Heavenly Court, 

Where thou dost reign. 

Spouse of the Paraclete, Lady of Light, 

Hear us we pray ! 
Be thou our beacon on this gloomy night, 

Show us the way. 
Fearless are they who are trusting in thee, 

Fearless the souls 
Whom thou art leading o 'er life 's stormy sea. 

Safe from the shoals. 
Thou who art ever the sailor's resort. 

Guide us aright; 
Lead us in safety to God's holy port, 

Lady of Light. 



S6 SUSQUEHANNA 



THE FOUNTAIN PEN 

My father filled his fountain pen, 

Then poised it in his hand 
And said: *^My boy, there's not a man 

Who rightly understands 
The depth of evil that the ink 

I put in here may do 
If this old pen is not propelled 

By one whose heart is true ; 
But if a wise, unselfish man. 

One thoroughly sincere. 
Should sway this pen, the good 'twill do 

We may not measure here. 
Unlimited the fair effects 

Of ink when rightly used ; 
Unlimited, the bad effects, 

If it should be abused. 

Now, brains resemble ink, my boy; 

'Twere well if some had less 
Wlio use them not, their fellow man, 

Nor God Himself to bless ; 
'Twere better they had none at all, 

Who gifts of mind employ 
That they the virtue and the Faith 

In others may destroy; 
But when a man whose heart is right 

Possesses talent too. 
My soul exults to contemplate 

The good that he may do — 



AND OTHER POEMS S7 

Enough! I think this fountain pen 

Has made the lesson plain ; 
First cultivate your heart, my son, 

Then cultivate your bain." 

Safe in my desk, I still preserve 

My father 's fountain pen, 
Just to remind me of the truth 

He wisely taught me then. 
True scion of the Celtic race 

Who rightly value lore. 
But who, as history proudly tells, 

Have valued Faith still more, 
He labored through a useful life 

This lesson to impart; 
It is a crime to educate 

The brain, and not the heart, — 
While talents in a villain work 

An evil truly great. 
The educated Christian is 

The safeguard of the State. 



38 SUSQUEHANNA 



TABBY'S TRIUMPH 

Two little maidens, that ought to be good, 

Two little sisters, fell out; 
One owned a dog and the other a cat, 

These brought the mischief about. 
Both were inclined to indulge in rough sport, 

Both disregarded the laws ; 
Fido was fond of displaying his teeth. 

Tab was too free with her claws. 

Last Thursday morning the crisis was reached, 

Fido shook Tab, who returned 
Quite unexpectedly, right in the eye. 

That which his boldness well earned. 
Kathleen was frightened — her pet might go 
blind ; 

May, quite delighted to think 
Tabby had mastered ^^the ugly old dog,'' 

Promised her cream for a drink. 

Kathleen indignantly cried : ^ ^ I will drown, 

Sure as I'm living, that cat!" 
''Will you, indeed?" was the saucy retort; 

''Pussy, my dear, heard you that?" 
Heedless of warnings the culprit was caught, 

Tied in an old flour sack. 
Carried away to a pool in the woods — 

Never again to come back. 



AND OTHER POEMS 39 

Kathleen had dragged it 'way out on a log, 

Lying just over the brink, 
Where it was deepest and where she was sure 

Tabby would easily sink. 
Taking cat's lives is a terrible thing! 

That she was nervous is true; 
And in her effort to push off the sack — 

Kathleen went tumbling in too. 

Down to the bottom she dived like a fish, 

Down with a heartrending shout ; 
Thanks be to goodness ! her father was near, 

Ready to help his girl out. 
Back to the surface she bobbed like a cork, 

Safe in his arms she was clasped ; 
* * Good for the cat ! I have drowned the old thing ! ' ' 

These were the first words she gasped. 

Wet as a sponge, she was brought to the house, 

May was provokingly kind; 
Lo ! on the hearthstone, with Fido there sat 

Tabby herself, do you mind? 
Everyone laughed at poor Kathleen, except 

Herself and the dog and the cat; 
Cats cannot laugh and that is just why 

Tabby so solemnly sat. 



40 SUSQUEHANNA 



KATHLEEN 

When the dawn of day is breaking, 
And the vernal earth awaking, 
All the dreams of night forsaking. 

Sparkles in her robes of green ; 
Then when every grove is ringing. 
With a thousand wild birds singing, 
All my thoughts go backward winging, 

And I think of you, Kathleen. 

Every fair and sunny hour, 

Some bright cloud, or some sweet flower 

Seemingly has magic power 

To revert my thoughts to you. 
When I feel soft zephyrs blowing, 
Or I hear the waters flowing. 
Then I find my heart is going 

Back to her who still is true. 

Wlien the summer sun is setting. 
All the West with rose-light fretting, 
I, the cares of day forgetting. 

Feast my eyes upon the scene ; 
And with faith in God abiding. 
Nothing from His kind eye hiding, 
Utterly in Him confiding, 

Then I pray for you, Kathleen. 



